


Rhythm of Your Heart

by one_more_offbeat_anthem



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, School Dances, Valentine's Day, they work at a party store because why the hell not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_more_offbeat_anthem/pseuds/one_more_offbeat_anthem
Summary: Every February at Harvelle’s Costumes and Party Supplies is the same: the store practically gets coated in pink, glitter, and hearts.Dean Winchester has been working there since his sophomore year of high school, and now, as a junior in college, he hates it--and Valentine’s Day. The only thing that makes the corporate sellout of a holiday worth it is Dean’s coworker and classmate Cas Milton, who Dean may or may not have been harboring a crush on for the past few years.The only problem? Cas loves Valentine’s Day. Like, a lot. And he's alsomajorlyunattainable.Unbeknownst to Dean, Cas likes him back and is bound and determined to make Dean like the holiday--and to finally make a move. After all, their university’s student activities association is putting on a Valentine’s formal...A lot can happen in the two weeks leading up to the holiday and the dance, but can they get on the same page before then?posts every day until february 14!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 65
Kudos: 110





	1. February 1: Dean

**Author's Note:**

> (title from the song "rhythm of your heart" by marianas trench)
> 
> if you've read my serial holiday fics [the curious case of dean winchester's coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749015/chapters/65257162) (halloween) or [I'll be home for christmas!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819700/chapters/68107930) (christmas, obvi) then you know the drill! I'll be posting a new chapter of this serial romance up through the fourteenth, Valentine's Day itself :) be prepared for a ton of holiday schmoopiness and fluff! 
> 
> As always, props go to the Profound Bond discord server. If you're 18+, [join us!](https://discord.gg/profoundbond) we're good fun :)
> 
> And if you like this, I post more stuff here sometimes and also on [my tumblr](https://one-more-offbeat-anthem.tumblr.com) :)

“I have _never_ done that before,” Dean said firmly. “I mean, got drunk and sang _Toxic_ by Britney Spears at karaoke? That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“August twenty-first of our freshman year of college,” Cas retorted. “There was a party at one of the frat houses. Ruby Sanders brought a portable karaoke microphone and Lee Webb supplied the vodka. You got absolutely toasted.” He kept stacking pink paper plates as if he hadn’t just dropped onto Dean that he remembered something _supremely_ embarrassing.

“Well,” Dean said, after a moment of staring at his coworker, “I’m sure if I...thought about it, I could come up with something embarrassing _you’ve_ done. You’re not special.”

Cas fixed him with his particular blue gaze. “Trust me, Dean. I remember _all_ the embarrassing things I’ve ever done.” 

Dean sighed and returned to restocking the party plates and dishes. As per usual, he had no leverage against Cas, who was always the best--the smartest, the most organized, the most _handsome_ \--

And the most unattainable.

Dean had been--he would never say _pining_ , because that was some sappy Hallmark shit--crushing on Castiel Milton, better known as simply Cas, since the end of their senior year of high school. It didn’t help that they had chosen the same university in their hometown, and they had worked together since they were sixteen.

It also didn’t help that it was February.

Valentine’s Day was the worst holiday. It was designed for people who were happy and lovable (so, not Dean Winchester), and it was a bunch of corporate bullshit. Harvelle’s Costumes and Party Supplies made a killing around the holiday, when anything pink and absolutely _slathered_ in glitter was a real hot commodity, but for Dean, it was fourteen days of being assaulted with the holiday wherever he went. He couldn’t even go to the goddamned liquor store without being slapped in the face with hearts. 

And Cas _loved_ Valentine’s Day. 

He always had, as far as Dean could tell. When their high school did rinky-dinky Valentine’s dances, Cas was always the first to buy a ticket. He actually _liked_ the stupid heart-shaped cookies their cafeteria supplied. And in college? Cas was on the fucking _planning committee_ for the student activities association’s Valentine’s formal.

(Which Dean fully intended to skip for the third year in a row.) 

“Dean?”

Dean whipped his head around to face Cas again. “Huh?”

“You were just, uh, standing there. It was weird.” 

“Right.” Dean resumed his stacking. “What do we have to restock next?”

“Ellen told me we got a new pinata shipment this morning, so we should probably hang those up.”

“Let me guess--they’re all heart shaped.”

“There are some sparkly pigs too, oddly enough.” Cas straightened his nametag on his work polo shirt. 

“Right.” 

It wasn’t that Dean didn’t know how to interact with Cas--over the years, they had hung out a lot. As lab partners in biology, stand partners during Dean’s short-lived stint in marching band, running buddies in phys ed, and they had enough of the same friends that they had ended up at dinner together before every prom or formal in high school. Freshman year of college, they had been neighbors in their dorm, and now they happened to live in the same apartment complex.

But being used to seeing someone and being _used_ to someone were two different things. Cas was unnerving purely on accident--he was the only person Dean knew who was unabashedly himself. Cas was borderline genius, double majoring in philosophy and English but better at math than anyone in that department. He loved nature documentaries and gardening, but was also a black belt in taekwondo. He sometimes said the wackiest shit and did not seem to care at all if it--or he--was weird. Dean found it admirable, and a little bit adorable.

(Dean himself was the _opposite_ of adorable. And ending this train of thought.)

They eventually moved onto the pinatas, and that was when Cas started his pre-scheduled Valentine’s-themed wheedling. 

“You know,” Cas said, setting up the ladder so they could hang the pinatas from the store’s ceiling, “You should come to the formal this year.”

“Nope,” Dean said. “I’ll be at my apartment, watching westerns and getting delightfully drunk.”

“But are you happy doing that?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged as he watched Cas climb the ladder. “I mean, I’m not _unhappy._ ”

“Hm. Hand me a pinata, one of the heart-shaped ones.”

“Valentine’s Day just isn’t my thing, man. You know that.”

“C’mon. Do you not remember giving Lisa Braeden that massive teddy bear junior year of high school?” Cas looked down at him, an amused expression on his face. “And then you two broke up a few weeks later.”

“Is there anything embarrassing about me that you don’t remember?”

Now Cas shrugged. “You could always give the formal--and the holiday--another try.”

“Nope, that’s a negative. All that lovey-dovey shit isn’t real.”

They worked in silence after that, and Dean thought that perhaps, at blessed last, Cas was going to leave him alone about it. 

Alas, he would never be so lucky.

Cas climbed down the ladder and stood right up in Dean’s personal space. It was nearly intoxicating to have Cas this close--his dark, unkempt hair, brilliant blue eyes, smiled that scrunched his eyes up…

Dean was feeling a little unbalanced. Cas clearly had no such qualms. 

“I’m going to convince you,” Cas said.

“You’re going to convince me of what, exactly?” 

“That Valentine’s Day is a great holiday, and that love isn’t fake.” 

“Hey, hey,” Dean held up his hands, trying to avoid touching Cas, “I never said _love_ was fake, just the--”

“ _Lovey-dovey shit._ I know. I extrapolated. I think that, with the right guidance, you can have a good time this year.” Cas smiled at him broadly, and Dean felt his resolve crumbling. 

“Fine,” Dean sighed, “You can try. But no promises.”

Later, once their shift was over and Dean was flopped on his dingy orange couch in his apartment, half-paying attention to a rerun of an episode of _Remington Steele_ and attempting to complete an assignment for his math class, he wondered what on earth Cas had in mind to convince him. 

Nothing good, probably.


	2. February 2: Cas

Cas Milton always started his days in the same way: light jazz, feeding his cat, a cup of earl grey tea with honey and half-n-half, and then the news. He was pretty sure he was the only person in his whole apartment complex that got an actual newspaper, but there was something about unfurling and ruffling the pages of newsprint that was just  _ delightful _ . Also, newspaper was good for a variety of arts and crafts, along with composting.

Today, though, was a grocery shopping day, which always added a pep to Cas’ step. He set aside his newspaper, skipping the obits (usually his favorite part--some people said the darndest things about the dead people they knew) in favor of making his grocery list on a yellow post-it pad.

There was something extra--and extra special--on the list today.

It was for Dean.

To say that he had a crush on Dean Winchester was inaccurate. At this point, he was pretty sure he was hopelessly in love with the guy. 

It had all started freshman year of high school when Dean had been pointed out to Cas, then the “new kid,” as the “tough guy who was actually really sweet,” and after that Cas was a goner, even though he and Dean didn’t formally meet until a few months later. 

There was just something about Dean, this sort of energy that was irresistible to everyone. Through no attempts of his own, Dean had been moderately popular in high school despite being a total geek (whereas Cas had been relegated to the bottom of the social pecking order). He was always amazed at the coincidences that had led to them actually being friends (it involved comic books and a superhero movie marathon at their friend Charlie’s house that Dean had invited Cas to on a whim). And Dean was whip-smart, majoring in mechanical engineering.

The crush hadn’t gone away--if anything, it had just gotten more persistent over time, until it was unavoidable, and while Cas was cursing himself, he was also finally making a move.

He was going to get Dean to come to that dance. And then he was going to tell Dean the truth.

It would all start with a heart-shaped box of chocolates Cas was going to get and leave outside Dean’s apartment door down the hall with a note that they were from a “secret admirer.” It was a bold move, especially for Cas, but the time had come.

Cas eventually finished his breakfast (a bowl of plain Cheerios with milk, his go-to for almost all of the twenty-one years of his life) and got dressed in the cleanest pair of jeans he could find and a hoodie that his older brother Gabe had embroidered with a bee and flowers for Cas’ nineteenth birthday.

Cas trudged downstairs to the complex’s parking lot and searched out his car, which wasn’t hard to find. When he had bought it in high school, Dean had once jokingly called it the  _ Pimpmobile,  _ and now Cas couldn’t help but refer to his low-rider gold Lincoln Continental as such. 

(And the Pimpmobile was better than Dean’s car, anyway. That was the one of the few flaws Cas could find in the other guy, and even it was endearing--Dean liked to act tough, with his classic rock and muscle car, but he was really a big softie, just like that random girl at school had told Cas all those years ago.)

The grocery store was pretty calm--Cas maintained that the best time to go was at eight am, if you could, because then no one was there. It was hard to tear himself away from the seasonal section, which was filled with all things Valentine’s Day, but eventually he made it out of the store with all the food he needed for the week and a shiny, red-and-pink heart-shaped box. 

Cas found himself at his kitchen table again, with his cat curled up in his lap and an index card in front of him. He held a red marker in his hand that he kept tapping against his chin. What to write on the note?

_ To Dean, from a secret admirer  _ seemed too simple, but it would get the point across, so Cas decided to just go with it. He wrote with his opposite hand so that the writing would be disguised, and then taped the note onto the box. 

Cas was convinced that as soon as he stepped in front of Dean’s door, it would swing open and Dean would be headed to Charlie’s or his mom’s house to see his younger brother, Sam, or to go grocery shopping himself, but it didn’t. Even so, Cas held his breath as he propped the box against the door and then took off down the hall back to his apartment. 

All day, Cas’ nerves made his stomach churn, despite the fact that there was no way Dean would think the box was from him. Dean was out of his league, and he knew it. 

“C’mon, Cas,” he muttered to himself, “You said you would make a move. Don’t chicken out now.” He settled for re-watching  _ Fifty First Dates _ that evening, after all of his homework and other stuff for the day was done, and was laying on his couch nursing a cream soda and a steadily-cooling bag of microwave popcorn (extra butter, because  _ duh _ ) when his phone dinged. 

It was a message from Dean.

_ you know anything about this _ ? The message read, with a picture of the heart-shaped chocolate box. 

_ no,  _ Cas sent back, and he tried to keep watching the movie, but it was hard to focus on Drew Barrymore falling in love with Adam Sandler all over again.

_ weird,  _ Dean’s next message said,  _ it was outside my door. said it was from an admirer.  _

_ can’t think of anyone who would admire you,  _ Cas replied.

_ rude.  _ But Dean included a laughing emoji, and then a follow-up:  _ the chocolate’s pretty good, even if it’s valentine’s themed. _

Score one for Cas Milton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes cas thinks his car is better than the impala. yes it is because he is stubborn. leave him alone <3
> 
> also your honor they are STUPID! stupidly in love that is! anyways! hope you guys enjoyed this chapter--thanks for all the love so far <3


	3. February 3: Dean

_ No. _

That was what Cas had said when Dean had asked him if he knew about the box of chocolates, and Dean was supposed to take it at face value, right? 

And yet there was a small, sappy part of him ( _ shut up, Sam _ ) that hoped that Cas had seen the box and thought of him--that hoped that Cas had thought of him at all. 

The more pressing matter, however, was the shit-ton of homework he had to do. His energy and fluids lab report wasn’t going to write itself, and Dean sucked at doing homework in his apartment, where he had all of his personal distractions with him. 

He usually went to the library to do homework, but today he was feeling like a change of pace, so he threw on a jacket, grabbed his backpack, and headed downstairs to the parking lot. 

There was only one car worth driving in the whole lot, and that was his Baby: a 1967 Chevy Impala. Long and black, Baby commanded respect. In Dean’s mind, there was nothing better than a car that you knew like the back of your hand.

The drive to the local coffee shop was a short one, but it was still nice to drive his car. Half the time, he walked places because parking around town was a bitch, so whenever Dean could, he took Baby for a spin. Sometimes on the weekends he would just go for a drive with the windows down and one of his favorite Zeppelin tapes on. 

But today wasn’t one of those days. Today was a day to analyze results of an experiment on thermodynamics and heat transfer. 

Dean managed to find a spot in the parking garage downtown and headed into Daydream Coffee (which was, for the record, a ridiculous name). He had just ordered an Americano and a slice of blueberry pie--even with the ridiculous name, Daydream Coffee made the second best pie in town. 

(The first best pie was made by Dean’s mom.)

He had gotten his drink and was searching for a table when he heard a familiar voice call his name. Dean turned to see Cas sitting at one of the tables by the window, pretzeled into a chair in ratty sweatpants and a sweatshirt from their high school’s speech and debate team. (Cas had been a whiz kid at policy debate. Dean had been dragged to one tournament by Charlie, with additional goading by Sam, and then immediately quit the team.)

“Heya, Cas,” Dean said, walking up to the table, “What’s up?”

“Just doing homework.” Cas had a stack of books in front of him, along with some multicolored pens and a flipped open notebook. “Want to join me?”

“Uh...sure.” A niggling voice in the back of his head told him that sitting with Cas was going to severely limit his ability to do work, and Dean told that voice to shut the hell up. 

He set himself up, got his pie from the counter, and then settled into calculations and an explanation of the chemistry of his and his lab partner Benny’s experiment. He kept finding himself glancing up at Cas, watching the other guy read with a furrowed brow, his unkempt, dark hair falling over his forehead.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked after a few minutes of silently working.

“Lab report for energy and fluids. We’re on a thermodynamics unit, so a big focus on equations of state and multiphase systems--sorry.” Dean cut himself off. “Probably not that interesting to you.”

“No, no,” Cas replied, “I think it’s cool that you’re studying this stuff.” From the way he was looking at Dean, his gaze wide and earnest, he seemed to genuinely mean it. 

“Well, thanks.” Dean rummaged through his backpack for his graphing calculator. “What are you doing?”

“Reading Ovid.” Cas groaned.

“He’s a Roman poet guy, isn’t he?”   


“Yes, and the worst. He was really into love elegies, and,” Cas rolled his eyes, “It’s weird.”

“Thought you loved love, man,” Dean teased.

“I like the…” Cas blushed, and damn, it was cute. “I like the part of love that doesn’t involve death.”

“So the pink hearts?”

“Love is more than pink hearts, Dean. And so is the...what did you call it,  _ lovey dovey shit? _ ” Cas propped his chin on his hands.

“You wanna elaborate?” Dean set his pencil and calculator down, leaning back in his chair. 

“Valentine’s Day is a nice  _ representation  _ of love, but the real deal has to take place all year round.” Cas swallowed, blinked at Dean, and then kept talking. “I mean,  _ love  _ can be a verb or a noun, and the verb form has two meanings: to feel deep affection for or to like and enjoy very much. So love is about spending time together, listening to each other, developing an understanding…” 

“Doesn’t sound so bad.” Dean could feel his face warming, so he turned his gaze back down to his lab notes.

_ Deep affection  _ sounded about right, and Dean was pretty sure that was what made him still like--love?--Cas, even when Cas enjoyed weird shit like Valentine’s Day or mixing peaches and applesauce.

Once again, he wished that Cas was his secret admirer, because Cas seemed like the kind of guy who would be good at love and relationships. He was, as Cas’ short-term girlfriend junior year of high school, Meg Masters, had noted, “sweet.” 

They didn’t talk much after that, both working on their respective assignments, but Dean caught Cas looking at him and smiling, and he felt something leap in his chest. 

Yeah, Dean was a goner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was only mentioned in passing in chp 2 but dean is a mechanical engineering major :) he is so smart!
> 
> and yes, the boys have differences of opinion on their cars. who would win in a fight: the pimpmobile or baby?
> 
> tomorrow, more schemy-scheming by cas (with advice from gabe) :) thanks for all the love so far!


	4. February 4: Cas

“I need these done by the end of your shift,” Ellen said, “But if you need any help, just let me know. I’ll be in the office.” She patted the table and left Dean and Cas to their own devices. 

Their assignment was to make some banners to hang behind the cash register, advertising new sale prices on Valentine’s themed items, since the holiday was in ten days now. It was going to include a lot of glitter and red paint--which was why Cas had come prepared for Make Dean Winchester Like Valentine’s Day: part two.

The pink polo shirt.

Their uniform at Harvelle’s Costumes and Party Supplies was pretty relaxed: jeans (no ripped or holey ones, though), sneakers (no open-toed shoes), and a solid-colored polo shirt. Dean almost always wore a black polo, but Cas favored colorful ones, and always wore red or pink ones during February. 

It just so happened that Cas had chosen to wear his red one and put the pink one in his backpack, in hopes that things would get messy during banner making and he could helpfully offer Dean a clean shirt.

(This idea had been supplied by Gabe, who also spent a hearty chunk of time mocking his “baby brother” for having a crush. Gabe was lucky that Cas was incredibly patient.) 

“How was your night?” Cas asked as they settled themselves around the counter. The words for the banner had already been sketched out, so he was pouring red paint onto a paper plate to outline them.

Dean studied the jars of glitter with a frown. “It was alright. Made a new recipe for dinner--my little brother’s really into health food and he sent me one for black bean burgers.” He chose the silver glitter. “They weren’t that bad.”

Cas smiled to himself as he started painting. Dean was somewhat of a carnivore--at several points in the past, he had referred to himself as the “meat man.”

(The expression on Dean’s face when someone had finally told him what that phrase meant had been  _ priceless _ .)

So. The polo shirt plot.

Cas didn’t want to seem suspicious, or purposefully make a mess, so he was counting on the fact that Dean was somewhat easily distracted and would inevitably knock something over, most likely onto himself. 

They didn’t talk much as they worked, and Cas sunk into a 1960s-love-ballad themed stupor thanks to the playlist Ellen had chosen for the store today. He was lost in the dulcet tones of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons singing “Earth Angel” when there was a clatter and an “Oh shit!” from across the counter.

Sure enough, Dean had knocked over both a bottle of paint and a jar of glitter, and he was now staring in horror at his formerly black shirt. Cas stifled a laugh at the sight of Dean covered in red paint and silver glitter, opting instead to helpfully say the line he’d been planning all along: “I brought an extra shirt, if you want to borrow one.”

“Really?” Dean said, “Because that would be  _ great _ .”

Cas nodded and rummaged around the back of the counter for his backpack and pulled out the wadded-up pink polo. He handed it to Dean, who stared at it in horror for approximately ten seconds before shaking his head. “Aw, what the hell,” Dean grumbled, and then, to Cas’ great surprise, Dean was peeling off his shirt right in front of him instead of going to the bathroom to change.

Cas had seen Dean shirtless once or twice on school trips in high school when they had been sorted to room together, and a couple times in the dorm freshman year of college during floor-wide marathon video game nights, but never this up close and personal, and, well…

Cas was only human.

He couldn’t help but admire how  _ strong  _ Dean seemed, and that, even with all the muscles, there was a softness to him, a warmth. Cas didn’t realize he was staring until he yanked his eyes back up to meet Dean’s vibrant green ones and discovered that Dean was blushing profusely under Cas’ gaze.

“Sorry,” Cas mumbled, dipping below the counter as if he had dropped something. He could feel his face heating, knew it was reddening--at least, unlike Dean, he didn’t blush all over. “Dropped this,” Cas said when he stood up, holding a pencil that he had actually pulled from his backpack.

“No problem,” Dean said in a slightly strangled voice, staring down at his pink-clad torso. “And, uh, thanks for the shirt.”

“Anytime.” Cas was  _ definitely  _ going to thank Gabe for this idea--and the added benefits it had produced. 

(Now if only he could figure out how to actually  _ talk  _ to Dean and not just goggle at him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look I'm with cas on the goggling
> 
> tomorrow: dean may or may not call Charlie to freak out
> 
> thanks for all the love so far!


	5. February 5: Dean

“He was staring,” Dean said into the phone, “I swear to god, Charlie, Cas was staring.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Charlie replied, sounding mildly disinterested, “And why are you freaking out about this, Dean?”

“Does he like me or something?”

“I dunno. Do  _ you  _ like him?”

“Do I--” Dean sputtered. He had purposely  _ never  _ told anyone besides Sam about his crush on Cas, not even Charlie, who was one of his best friends. The fact that Charlie was also one of Cas’ best friends could have made things awkward and--

“Dean?” she asked.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Duh.”

“I’ve liked Cas since senior year of high school.”

“ _ Called it! _ ” Charlie crowed, and there was a thumping sound.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. “And shut up!”

“A victory dance. You’ve been giving him googly eyes for  _ ages  _ and now you finally admit it! Just ask him out, Dean.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dean muttered. Charlie was the serial monogamist in their friend group--she and her girlfriend Dorothy had been dating for five years at this point.

“C’mon, Dean, it can’t be that hard. I think the openly staring at your naked chest is a pretty good indication that Cas has the hots, anyways.”

“Ugh.”

“I’ve got to go to class, Dean, but you got this.” Charlie hung up before Dean could say anything in response. 

Dean stared at his phone. He felt like he’d just sprinted across campus or something, when in reality he’d just walked downstairs while talking on the phone.

Charlie thought Cas liked him. 

There was no way that could be true, though. Sure, Cas had been caught staring, but Cas was always a little weird about things like personal space and lingering looks. It was one of his quirks that Dean had gotten used to.

Or so he thought.

Cas’ wide-eyed expression as he (presumably) checked Dean out was now seared into Dean’s brain yet again, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to focus for a little bit. 

It was time to go on one of those drives he loved so much, to clear his head. He could do his homework while he ate dinner. 

The drives had started the year Dean’s dad had died--the Impala had been a “gift” of sorts. At least, it was left to Dean in John Winchester’s will, which kind of amazed Dean, because his parents had divorced when he was in middle school and John had promptly decided to act like he didn’t have two sons. The fact that he’d been remembered at all was kind of amazing.

Dean had been seventeen, and he’d spent a weekend getting the engine to start again before going on his first drive in the car. He put his cassette tapes in it, cried his own damn tears, and declared it  _ his _ . Since then, it had become a pride and joy, something he could fix up and make work again, and a refuge. 

Hence the nickname Baby. She commanded respect. 

Dean slid onto the bench seat and started the engine before selecting a tape to listen to. Normally, he cycled through Zeppelin’s discography, along with other rock classics (Cas listened to what Dean called  _ bubblegum pop,  _ and it was actually pretty--no. Dean was  _ never  _ going to admit to Cas that he found his teeny-bopping music  _ enjoyable _ ), but today he had a mixtape his brother Sam had made him a few years before--with a lot of Dean’s help. It had been a nice afternoon of watching Sam pick out songs and then show him how to record them onto the cassette. 

Sam was a good kid. His music choices were pretty good, too. 

Dean backed out of the parking lot to Air Supply’s  _ All Out of Love _ and decided to drive out to the baseball fields right outside the edge of town. 

As he drove, he wondered what it would be like to have someone else in the car with him--specifically someone named Castiel Milton. Dean was usually a stickler for what music was played in the Impala--but he’d let Cas twist his arm and play what he wanted. Hell, Cas wouldn’t even have to twist his arm. Dean would just let him choose the tunes. 

Dean couldn’t help but think of other things he and Cas could do in the Impala. The bench seats  _ were _ pretty spacious...

_ You know,  _ a niggling voice in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like Charlie said,  _ you could just tell him. There’s a chance he may like you back _ .

“No,” Dean said out loud, “Absolutely not.” He turned up the music, but it didn’t really help. 

_ I'm all out of love; I'm so lost without you _

_ I know you were right, believing for so long _

_ I'm all out of love, what am I without you? _

_ I can't be too late to say that I was so wrong _

“Jesus fuck,” Dean said, pressing the skip button.. 

He drove out to the baseball fields, and then kept going. Eventually he turned around. The tape finished and he switched to the local classic rock station, but it was on a commercial break.

It started to rain. 

When Dean got back to his apartment complex’s parking lot, it was full-on pouring outside, and he had to take a mad dash through the downpour into the building. He was just standing on the entry way’s carpet, dripping, when a familiar voice behind him said, “I’d ask if you wanted to borrow my umbrella, but it seems a little late for that.”

Dean let out a long, slow exhale and willed himself not to blush before he turned around to face Cas. “Hey.”

Cas smiled at him kindly, blue eyes wide, gaze open. “Do you want some hot chocolate? I know it’s cold, in addition to being rainy.”

Dean swallowed. He was pretty sure Cas’ eyes were checking him out again, what with his wet t-shirt sticking to his skin. “Sure,” Dean said before he could mentally talk himself out of it. 

“Great!” Cas said, and his grin was kind of everything _. _

_ Damn it, Dean,  _ Dean’s inner voice said,  _ when’d you get so lovesick?  _

Somewhere between senior year of high school and freshman year of college, that was the answer.

Dean had thought that his crush on Cas would disappear by the time college started, since Cas had spent that whole summer in another state with some family, but as soon as Dean had seen him in the hallway during move-in, he’d nearly dropped a box on his foot.

And things hadn’t really gotten better.

Dean had been in Cas’ apartment before, had met his cat, Bernard, but he forgot that it was February, which meant that there was a door hanger shaped like a heart on the front door, and inside things were  _ kitschy _ . 

(It honestly wasn’t that bad.)

Dean sat in one of Cas’ kitchen chairs--he had tried to help with the hot chocolate but Cas had refused--and ran his hand through Bernard’s fur (the cat had jumped onto his lap almost as soon as he sat down). 

He took the opportunity to give Cas a once-over--the other guy was in paint-splattered jeans and a sweatshirt for their university with frayed cuffs. He was wearing wool socks with flowers on them--Cas had ditched his shoes as soon as he had gotten into his apartment. 

Cas turned around and carefully set a mug in front of Dean before getting his own and sitting down across from Dean. There was a comfortable, easy silence between them, and Dean took a sip of his hot chocolate. “Thanks, Cas,” he said, wiping some whipped cream off of his top lip.

“It’s no problem,” Cas replied, not bothering to wipe off his own cream-moustache. “You live right down the hall, and I like hanging out with you.” 

“You do, huh?”

Cas reddened, nodded.

“Well, lucky for you, I like hanging out with you, too.” Dean raised his mug. “Toast?”

Cas clinked their mugs together and took a long sip. When he set his mug back down on the table, he was smiling.

Dean couldn’t help but smile, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnngh they're so DUMB!
> 
> tomorrow: movie night at Charlie's with their friend group! what will happen? does she know that cas likes dean? will she meddle? you'll just have to wait and see!


	6. February 6: Cas

Cas had been looking forward to a movie night at Charlie’s apartment all week. The whole gang from high school that was still in college here would be there--Charlie, her girlfriend Dorothy, Jo, Ash, and, of course, Dean. 

Charlie was the only person that knew Cas had a crush on Dean, and he had kept it that way on purpose. She was trustworthy, and he didn’t want it getting around. It did mean, of course, that she had been begging to play matchmaker for ages, and it was with great delight that she called him about an hour before he was supposed to head to her apartment across town. 

“Cas,” she said when he picked up the phone, not even letting him answer, “I need you to come over early.”

“Uh, why?” Cas asked, tucking his phone between his head and shoulder as he put away some leftovers in the fridge. “Is everything alright?”

“More than alright. Look, Cas, just come over, okay?”

“Sure, gimme five minutes.” Cas hung up and stared at his phone.

What on earth?

It actually took ten minutes, but soon he was at Charlie’s apartment. When he got there, he knocked and then let himself in, like he always did. He heard voices coming from the kitchen, and rounded the corner to see Charlie and her girlfriend Dorothy at the bar, organizing beer bottles. 

“...What’s happening?” Cas asked, tilting his head. Since he wouldn’t be twenty-one until September (Cas had a late birthday, Dean had turned twenty-one back in January), he didn’t drink unless it was with friends, and normally Charlie warned him if that was part of the plan.

Charlie wheeled around excitedly. “We’re going to have a good time tonight, Cas. Dean’s bringing whiskey, and Ash has the vodka on lock.”

“Okay,” Cas said. “Why?”

“Look, Cas, y’know how...look, Dorothy knows, I couldn’t hide it from her. You like Dean, right? Well…” She looked around the room. “I have it on good authority that Dean likes you back.” 

“And whose good authority is that?”

“Nice try, Cas. I’m not revealing my source--I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

“Ugh.” Cas scanned the bottles of beer again. “So what’s the plan? How does me liking Dean factor into this?”

“I’m going to propose a drinking game during the movie,” Charlie said, “One that will get everyone _just_ tipsy enough to not be able to drive home--which means spending the night. Which means I’ll randomly assign you and Dean to the futon.” 

“Wait...you’re plotting to make us _sleep together_?” Cas exclaimed, twisting his fingers into the hem of his dark green sweater.

“Well, not in a PG-13 sense...although you can do whatever you want, just keep it down.” Charlie winked at him. “I’m kidding, Cas. Look, maybe all you two need is a nudge.”

“If your ‘source’ is even right,” Cas grumbled, framing his words with air-quotes. He didn’t have much more time to worry about it, though, because Jo and Ash suddenly arrived early with the vodka. Dean was, of course, five minutes late, but apparently the whiskey was worth it.

It was Ash’s turn to choose the movie, so they were watching _Thor Ragnarok,_ which Cas had seen before and enjoyed. He hadn’t seen it drunk, though, and Charlie had devised a drinking game with rules such as _drink every time a woman does something awesome, drink everytime you’re inexplicably attracted to Loki, drink when you see Stan Lee’s cameo,_ and so on. Soon enough, Cas could feel the liquor swirling in his gut. He was on the floor next to Dean, and somehow their bodies had gotten pressed together, close enough that Cas could smell the whiskey on Dean’s breath. 

“This game is hard,” Dean whispered to him, his lips almost brushing Cas’ ear. “Because the women are all so cool. And Loki is hot. Like you.” He took a drink, looked Cas up and down. “You might be hotter, actually.”

“I, uh, thanks?” Cas quickly took a gulp of his drink. _Dean’s drunk,_ he reminded himself before he could get his hopes up. _That’s why he’s flirting._

“Anytime.” Dean grinned at him, his green eyes sparkling, and Cas swallowed, his chest tight. “Do you think I’m hot?”

“Do I--” Cas swallowed again. “Yes?”

“That sounded like a question.”

“Wasn’t.” Cas took another gulp of his drink, willing his confidence to appear. “You’re very attractive, Dean.”

“Aw, thanks,” Dean said, knocking his glass against Cas’ in an impromptu toast. 

For the rest of the movie, Cas was hyper-focused on the warmth of Dean next to him, how it felt to feel Dean laugh with his whole body. Charlie kept sneaking glances at them, and at one point she gave Cas a thumbs up. He resisted the urge to flip her off. 

Eventually, the movie ended, and then they _had_ to watch the end-credits scenes that Marvel movies were so well known for, and _then_ it was really over.

Charlie stood up, wobbling slightly, and cast her gaze over everyone. “We’re all too drunk to drive, I think. Jo, you can have the guest bed, and Ash can set up the blow-up bed in there. Dean and Cas, you two get the futon.”

If anyone thought her doling out sleeping arrangements was weird, no one said anything--they had all slept over at Charlie’s at least once in the past, although usually they knew beforehand and would bring sleeping bags and the like.

 _This is going to be fine,_ Cas reminded himself as they all took turns in the bathroom. When he got out, Dean was standing in front of the futon in the darkened living room, only the streetlight filtering in through the window illuminating him. Cas tried not to watch as Dean stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, and then Cas did the same, his fingers slipping on the button of his jeans. Cas climbed into the now-pulled-out futon first, drawing the blanket up to cover his torso, and he felt the mattress sink as Dean climbed in a few minutes later.

Cas willed his breathing to steady. 

It was hard, though--Dean was inches away from him, in only boxers and a thin t-shirt, and they were on Charlie’s futon together, both just a little bit too drunk to drive.

Maybe he shouldn’t have let Charlie facilitate this.

After a few minutes of Cas rolling back and forth, trying to get comfortable, Dean batted him with a hand. “Go to sleep, Cas.” 

“Sorry,” Cas mumbled.

“S’fine.” And then Dean was pulling Cas towards him, looping his arm around Cas’ waist, and Cas didn’t have it in him to protest.

He thought as he drifted off that this was maybe the happiest he had ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all knew Charlie was trustworthy....she's not gonna tell cas that dean said it! but she's sure as hell gonna meddle and get these two idiots (affectionate) together!
> 
> this was probably my favorite chapter to write so far....and tomorrow, we get to see dean's thoughts on the night...mayhaps they will wake up together???????? you'll just have to wait and see!


	7. February 7: Dean

Dean woke up feeling  _ very  _ cozy, which was unusual. 

He slowly opened his eyes to discover that he was in Charlie’s apartment, on her futon, instead of in his own apartment and in his own bed. He then realized with a jolt that the coziness he felt was  _ Cas  _ snuggled up against him. 

The events of last night came flooding back to Dean--watching  _ Thor: Ragnarok  _ and playing an elaborate drinking game that had ended in all of them too inebriated to drive, which had landed Cas and Dean on the futon. And he had flirted with Cas, hadn’t he?

With horror, Dean remembered pulling Cas close to him as he had drifted off, because the guy wouldn’t quit readjusting, and now, here he was, with Cas pressed up against him, warm and comfortable. 

_ I could get used to this,  _ Dean thought. It was nice to be able to look down at Cas, to trace the features of his face without worrying about being caught looking. He was just so goddamn beautiful, and it took all of Dean’s self-control not to run a hand through Cas’ dark hair. Instead, he just let himself enjoy this, let his eyes fall shut again. He wasn’t falling back asleep--he was just sinking into the warmth and comfort that being this close to Cas provided. 

After a few minutes, Dean felt Cas shift against him, and he opened his eyes to look down at him again. Cas blinked up at him sleepily, and then smiled. “Mornin’ sunshine,” Dean teased, his voice gravely with disuse. 

“Morning,” Cas replied softly. They just stared at each other for a few moments--Charlie’s apartment was silent, and Dean was pretty sure they were the only ones awake. 

“Sleep okay?” Dean asked.

“Mmm-hmm.” Cas yawned. “Got a headache, though. You?”

“Same.” Dean decided to try not to reflect on the fact that this had probably been the best sleep of his life. 

Dean didn’t make a move to get up, and neither did Cas. So they just stayed there, with Dean’s arms around Cas, Cas’ face buried in Dean’s chest, until they heard a door open and footsteps. Cas groaned and rolled away from Dean, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. Cas’ bed-head was incredible, his hair sticking up in every possible direction. Dean stifled a laugh at the sight, and Cas glared at him. 

Right. Cas was a  _ bit  _ of a grump until he had his tea--or, in a pinch, coffee.

Dean flopped back onto the futon as Charlie walked into the living room. “You guys sleep well?” she asked, an odd look on her face. Dean nodded and Cas gave her a bleary thumbs-up. “C’mon, Cas,” she continued, “Help me make coffee.” 

Cas groaned but got off the futon and pulled on his jeans before following Charlie in the kitchen. Dean wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but something in Cas’ tone as he talked to Charlie sounded frustrated, and suddenly worry swooped in, tying his stomach into knots.

Had he been too forward? Had the sleeping arrangement made Cas uncomfortable, and he’d just been too nice to say anything, because Cas was like that? Or had Dean’s slightly drunken flirting put him off? 

A few minutes later, Cas came out of the kitchen with two mugs of coffee and handed one to Dean, who sat up and took it gratefully. Cas didn’t look mad--in fact, his expression was the same as that smile he had given Dean at the coffee shop. It was soft, honest, open. Cas looked  _ happy  _ to see him.

So what was all that in the kitchen about?

Eventually, the rest of the gang got up and they had a haphazard breakfast that included Ash spilling an entire pot of coffee, and then it was back to real life. Dean and Cas folded the futon back up together, and then headed to their cars.

Halfway through the drive back to his apartment, it occurred to Dean that he was going to see Cas as soon as he got back to their complex, so he decided to take a random detour to the grocery store. All of the calm that he’d felt when he had woke up had dissipated, and now there was a current of jittery, nervous energy coursing through his veins. 

Dean grabbed a few staples--a six-pack of beer, ingredients for his favorite tomato-and-rice soup, and a bag of chips--before he found himself looking at the candy aisle. 

Cas’ favorite candy was the Hershey’s Symphony bars, which he claimed tasted better than the regular milk chocolate bars. Dean had never been able to notice a difference, but on a whim he picked up a couple of bars (and some York peppermint patties for himself). Maybe they could be a peace offering, if he'd really upset Cas.

Dean swung by his own apartment first to put away the perishables, and then he found himself outside of Cas’ door, hesitating. Maybe he should just leave the chocolate by the door and go, or text Cas, or hide them in the back of a cabinet in his kitchen and try not to think too much about Cas.

Before he could go through with any of that, though, the door swung open, and Cas nearly walked into him. 

“Hi,” Cas said, tilting his head slightly. “Why are you here?” He had changed into sweatpants and another one of his seemingly endless supply of hoodies--this one was navy and emblazoned with the logo of their high school’s marching band (Cas had played clarinet). 

“I, uh…” Dean swallowed. “Went to the store. And got you this.” He held up the chocolate.

A smile bloomed across Cas’ features. “Thanks, Dean, this was very thoughtful. But, uh, can I ask why?” 

“I just…” Suddenly, Dean didn’t want to apologize for last night, so he went in a different direction. “Wanted to say thank you. For putting up with me at Charlie’s.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘putting up with,’” Cas said. “I said a couple of days ago that I like hanging out with you. That’s still true.”

“Right.” The tightness in Dean’s chest was loosening. “Hey, what did you and Charlie talk about this morning? She was being awfully loud.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Cas blushed--profusely. “That's a secret. But not a bad one.”

“Right,” Dean repeated. “Well, uh, I’ll see you around, Cas.”

Cas smiled at him again, and then edged all the way out of his apartment, around Dean, and to the stairs. Dean watched him go, and then shook his head and walked back to his own apartment. 

_ What kind of secret could Cas and Charlie have?,  _ he wondered. Certainly nothing like _his_ secret with Charlie, because that would be ridiculous. 

He needed to get a grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the immense squealing on yesterday's chapter--what did you think of dean's perspective today? also, this story is already somehow half-over??? only seven more days until the big day! what else could happen before then?


	8. February 8: Cas

Dean had been  _ so  _ close to uncovering the truth, and the thought terrified Cas. 

(Although it was also kind of exciting.)

The previous morning, after Cas had dragged himself off the futon, away from Dean, to help Charlie with coffee, she had asked how the night had gone, he’d told her the truth: that they’d cuddled, that Dean had instigated it, and then that he was worried: worried that Dean had only pulled him in because he was drunk.

But there was the morning to think about, wasn’t there? The way Dean had held him, even though they were both awake and there was no reason to. Dean hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t been disgusted. And there was the chocolate, the Symphony bars, Cas’ favorite.

Maybe Charlie’s super-secret source, whoever it was, had it right. Maybe Dean liked him.

But probably not.

Cas went through his classes for the day in a trance, hardly able to pay attention to discussions of ancient philosophies and middle English literature, and then it was off to a shift at Harvelle’s Costumes and Party Supplies, which meant Dean.

To Cas’ surprise, Dean was there before he was, standing at the cash register with his usual black polo shirt on. He glanced up at Cas as he entered, causing the bell on the door to ring, and smiled. Cas couldn’t help but smile back. 

It was a slow day at the store--that usually happened as the month of a holiday dragged on, but inevitably there would be some people (usually guys) who would rush into the store the day before Valentine’s Day or something desperately in need of decorations and supplies.

Cas didn’t mind the quiet, though. They restocked shelves of the more popular items, like the standard plates-cups-tablecloths-confetti of party supplies, and chatted. That was one of the nice things about Dean--he and Cas had known each other for nearly seven years, so it was easy to be around him and sometimes let silence drift in.

(Well, easy if he wasn’t  _ spooning you _ , but Cas couldn’t think about that at work.)

As if Dean was reading his mind and seeing that Cas was thinking about the movie night at Charlie’s, Dean piped up again. “It was Ash’s turn to choose a couple days ago, right? Doesn’t that make it my turn next?”

“I think so, yeah.” Cas counted back in his head--Jo had chosen the movie before Ash, and then Charlie, and himself, and Dorothy… “Yeah,” Cas said again. “What were you thinking?”

Dean shrugged as he slid bags of pink-and-red heart-shaped confetti onto their hook. “Maybe an action movie.”

“We watched _ Die Hard _ two months ago,” Cas countered.

“Why do you always assume I’m going to choose  _ Die Hard _ ?” 

Cas fixed Dean with a look.

“Okay, okay, you got me.” Dean rolled his eyes and moved onto the silver heart-shaped confetti. “ _ Top Gun?” _

“You made me watch that when you were sick last month and I brought you soup.”  _ Made  _ was a strong word, though. Cas had brought Dean some soup, since Dean lived down the hall and it seemed like a nice thing to do, and  _ Top Gun  _ had been playing on the television, and Cas hadn’t said  _ no  _ when Dean offered that he could stay and watch the movie. It had been a nice time.

“How about  _ Ocean’s Eleven _ ?”

“I could get behind that. George Clooney’s in it.”

“Another hot guy.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous hand and then focused on the confetti. “Might have to play another drinking game.”

“Oh?” Cas raised one of his eyebrows. 

“Mmm-hmm.” Dean wasn’t looking at him, but Cas could see the back of his neck turning red.

...Was Dean trying to flirt with him again?

Cas swallowed. “It was fun this time.”

“Yeah.” Dean turned to grab another bin of confetti bags, and Cas could see a small smile forming on his face. His eyes flickered up to meet Cas’. “It was.”

After that exchange it was difficult to focus on work, to say the least. They moved onto talking about other things, classes and that random Victor Henriksen guy from high school--”Did you hear that he’s graduating early? From  _ Harvard _ ? Bastard,” Dean had said--and all of the other things they could find to talk about, but Cas’ mind was focused on Dean’s smile. 

Cas had always thought that Dean was attractive. After all, for Cas’ first few months at their high school, they hadn’t been friends, hadn’t even known each other, but Cas had snuck many a glance at the guy that seemed to have friends from every social circle, who was liked by the teachers even if his grades weren’t perfect. Cas had memorized that face, with the strong jaw and the smattering of freckles and brilliant green eyes and dynamic expressions, and then had watched it mature over time. One of the (many) benefits of becoming Dean’s friend had been getting to look at him more--and learning to understand just  _ what  _ made the guy so magnetic. 

That night, after Cas had made mac-n-cheese for dinner and then spent ten minutes scrubbing cheese out of a pot, and after he’d finished his homework and brushed his cat (Cas was pretty sure that Bernard had the world’s thickest cat hair), he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

He couldn’t help but think about the way it had felt to have Dean pressed against him, holding him there as if he  _ wanted  _ him there. It was altogether too much--and Cas couldn’t tell if Dean regretted it or not. Sure, it had seemed like Dean was flirting with him again today at work, but Cas also knew from the aforementioned seven years of being Dean’s friend that Dean sometimes flirted as a reflex. 

Cas just hoped that he wasn’t a reflex. He wanted to be  _ real  _ to Dean, had always wanted that. And while Valentine’s Day and the formal were less than a week away, Cas didn’t feel any closer to getting Dean to the dance, despite the planning of himself, Gabe, and Charlie. 

It was time to break out the big guns. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> classic flirty dean....unless he really IS flirting with cas? (I mean, we know the truth)
> 
> anyone else wondering what cas' "big guns" are?? you'll just have to wait and see!


	9. February 9: Dean

Dean loved college.

This was sometimes a surprise to people like his friends from high school, his mom, and literally anyone else who took a glance at his boots and leather jacket and long, black car and made a laundry list of generalizations about him based on appearance. 

But Dean had always liked learning things and doing research. So maybe he wasn’t a whiz kid like his brother Sam or Cas or whoever, but he had figured out how to make it over halfway through a program in mechanical engineering, which was chock-full of math and physics and the like, through sheer force of will.

Even so, there were some parts of college he  _ didn’t  _ love so much, like running from class to class like a chicken with his head cut off. Dean was dashing across the quad to the chemistry building for his energy and fluids lab when he saw a familiar shock of dark hair on a sweatshirt-and-paint-covered-jeans clad person. 

Cas.

Cas noticed Dean at the same time Dean noticed him, and shot his hand up in a wave. Dean waved back, trying to ignore the smile on Cas’ face, and then kept walking. 

Dean could hardly pay attention to the explanation of today’s lab assignment, and he kept knocking his pencil on the floor. When he and his lab partner Benny got to their station, Dean just kind of stood there stupidly while Benny read the worksheet and started gathering supplies.

“Dude,” Benny said, stopping in his tracks, “What’s up with you? You’re all out of it today.”

“Oh,” Dean said, shaking his head and grabbing his lab coat. “I’m fine, just…”

“Just what?”

“I, uh, it’s kind of a lot to talk about. I don’t really know what to do.” Dean shrugged his lab coat on. What the hell was he supposed to say,  _ sorry I can’t focus because the guy I’ve been crushing on for years just waved at me? _

“Look, man, I know we don’t know each other that well,” Benny said, handing Dean the flint and striker to light the Bunsen burner, “But maybe that’s a good thing. I could be an objective judge of your situation.”

Dean sighed, carefully turning on the gas and striking the striker over it until a flame appeared. “So there’s this guy.”

“Oh?”

Dean glared at his lab partner. “Let me finish. His name is Cas, and we’ve been friends since we were freshmen in high school. He’s really cool.”

“And you like him?” Benny raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know you swung that way, but good for you."

Dean rolled his eyes and nodded. “I’ve liked him since senior year, so nearly three years now. We work together, he lives down the hall from me, we have all the same friends, hell, we have the same best friend.” 

“So what’s the problem? He doesn’t like you back or something?”

“See, that’s what I don’t know.” Dean picked up the tongs, under the guise of actually starting the lab, but really it was just the Bunsen burner flickering before them still. “A couple of days ago, we had a movie night at said best friend’s apartment. Her name is Charlie, she’s a comp-sci major. Everyone had a little much to drink, and we all ended up staying over...Cas and I shared a bed.”

“Tell me more,” Benny said, grabbing a beaker from their lab supplies. 

“We...cuddled? Spooned? At first we were just sleepy and drunk, I think, but then in the morning neither of us got up, even though we were awake, until someone else woke up.”

“So you’re wondering if he likes you…” Now Benny took the tongs from Dean’s hand, since Dean was just standing there uselessly holding them. 

“Yeah. He’s, uh, helping organize the Valentine’s formal and he said he wants me to come, but I just don’t know what to do.”

“Here’s my advice,” Benny said, adjusting the flame and then grabbing an iron ring and mesh square to set the beaker on, above the flame. “Buy a ticket, but make it a surprise that you’re going to the dance. That's some cute shit. Although I don’t think he would mind if you went.”

“Why’s that?” Dean snapped his lab goggles on, and Benny did the same.

Benny fixed him with a glare. “Dean, you’re my classmate, so I can say with confidence that you’re a pretty smart guy, but right now you’re being an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“No, it’s true. I’ve never met Cas and I’d bet my money he has a big, juicy crush on you, too. Get over it and just ask the guy out.”

“I--” Dean was at a loss for words. Benny was right, he really only had one excuse for not having asked Cas out already, and it was nerves. There was nothing else standing in his way but himself. 

They eventually made their way through the lab (although Dean almost set his lab coat on fire), and then Dean peeled out of the chemistry building. He found a bench to sit on and tapped through his phone until he found the email from the student activities association about the Valentine’s Day formal. 

_ Dear student,  _

_ We are pleased to invite you to the tenth annual Valentine’s Day formal at 8pm on February 14th! Tickets are $10 and can be bought beforehand or at the door. This year’s theme is….a night at the disco! We hope to see you there! _

_ Sincerely, the student activities association _

_ President Hannah Cartwright _

_ Treasurer Raphael Johnson _

_ Secretary Amelia Richardson _

_ Event Coordinator Castiel Milton _

_ Outreach Director Benjamin Abbott _

The email included a (badly) photoshopped invitation for the dance, complete with a clipart disco ball and a slew of pink hearts.

Dean sighed. He couldn’t believe that he was a) about to take Benny’s advice and b) actually buy a ticket to the godforsaken Valentine’s formal. 

Before he could chicken out, he hit the link to buy a ticket and filled in his information. A couple of minutes later, a confirmation email came to his inbox. Dean marked it as  _ read  _ and shoved his phone back into his pocket. 

It was probably gonna be the death of him, but he was going to this dance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again dean being very smart is a hill I WILL die on and y'all can watch me do it
> 
> also I felt like, after mentioning benny earlier, he deserved a whole scene--so of course he was going to use it to roast dean!
> 
> so....dean's going to the dance. will he take benny's advice and surprise cas, or tell cas he's going?


	10. February 10: Cas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: gratuitous use of Taylor Swift lyrics ahead!

It had _not_ been  Cas’ day, but he was hoping that it would look up. 

He’d spent the morning in a creative writing seminar that ended in one of his classmates crying (Cas had walked her across campus afterwards, helping her talk it out, but she was still pretty torn up about it) and then having a lunch meeting with the rest of the Valentine’s formal planning committee where they spent way too long discussing  _ where  _ to get disco balls from (Cas didn’t care, as long as they were disco balls) and who would make the playlist and what kind of punch to have, and Cas wanted to bang his head against the table at how  _ ridiculous  _ everyone was being. These little decisions should be the easy ones. 

When he got to Harvelle’s Costumes and Party Supplies, he ducked into Ellen’s office. She was tapping away at something on her computer, but when she heard his footsteps, she turned to face him.

“Hey, Cas,” she said. “Heard you saw my daughter a couple of days ago.” 

Cas nodded. “Movie night at Charlie’s.” Jo was Ellen’s daughter, and she had, back in high school, originally dropped Cas and Dean’s names to Ellen for jobs at the store. It had worked out pretty well. “I was wondering if I could choose the music for the store today.”

“Go ahead! It’s just on the top hits station right now, so…”

“Nothing good,” Cas interrupted, and Ellen laughed. The disco theme for the Valentine’s formal had been his idea--it was mostly an excuse to play seventies music and loop _Disco Inferno_ by the Trammps .

But Cas had a broader music taste, and he had a special Valentine’s playlist chock-full of what Dean called “bubblegum pop” named  _ Cas’ Top 14 Valentine’s Traxx.  _

(The misspelling of “traxx” has been a Dean suggestion. Dean had, however, insofar refused to listen to the playlist.)

This playlist was the big guns.

If this didn’t get someone in the mood for a holiday devoted to pink, hearts, glitter, and candy, then literally nothing would. 

Cas went back to the front of the store and set the playlist up while he organized the cash register. Dean had been early a couple of days before, but that was unusual--Dean was perpetually running late. Whoever had been on shift before Cas (he was pretty sure it was Kevin Tran, a freshman electrical engineering major) had left things fairly tidy, so he was left standing at the register, adjusting his nametag on his pink polo shirt and waiting for Dean.

Dean was seven minutes late, at which point Cas’ playlist was on  _ Out of My League  _ by Fitz and the Tantrums, which felt maybe a little  _ too  _ accurate. Even plopping his backpack on the floor behind the counter and adjusting his black polo, Dean looked casual, relaxed, not like he was about to explode because of choosing a playlist.

“You chose the music today, didn’t you?” Dean said by way of greeting.

“Let me guess, you hate it,” Cas said, even though he knew that Dean secretly didn’t mind it. 

“I’ve heard worse,” Dean said, before heading the back to grab another box of heart-shaped lollipops--they were a hot commodity among elementary school teachers.  By the time Dean came back lugging the box, the music had switched to Taylor Swift’s  _ I Think He Knows. _

_ I think he knows _

_ His footprints on the sidewalk _

_ Lead to where I can't stop _

_ Go there every night _

_ I think he knows _

_ His hands around a cold glass _

_ Make me wanna know that _

_ Body like it's mine _

Cas tore his eyes away from Dean and pretended to have something to do by adjusting the banner they had painted the week before. When he turned around, he noticed that Dean seemed to be mouthing along with the words. 

_ He got that boyish look that I like in a man _

_ I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans _

_ It's like I'm 17, nobody understands _

_ No one understands _

“Dean…” Cas said, cocking his head sideways, “Are you singing along to a Taylor Swift song?”

“No,” Dean replied defensively before turning to put the bags of lollipops on a shelf. Maybe Cas was seeing things, but he was almost certain that there was a slight sway to Dean’s hips. 

_ He got my heartbeat _

_ Skipping down 16th Avenue _

_ Got that, oh, I mean _

_ Wanna see what's under that attitude like _

_ I want you, bless my soul _

_ And I ain't gotta tell him, I think he knows _

_ I think he knows _

When Dean turned back to face Cas again, he was stooping to pick up the cardboard box and collapse it, and clearly he thought Cas wasn’t still watching, because he was now openly singing along, although the music was turned up enough that Cas couldn’t hear his voice. Dean glanced up, saw Cas looking at him, and turned bright red. But then a devilish, classic Dean Winchester-shit-eating-grin graced his features, and he set down the box and started full on dancing along to the music. 

_ I think he knows _

_ When we get all alone _

_ I'll make myself at home _

_ And he'll want me to stay _

_ I think he knows _

_ He better lock it down _

_ Or I won't stick around _

_ 'Cause good ones never wait _

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean called during the break for the drums, “Dance with me.” His cheeks were still pink, and it hearkened back to prom afterparties in high school and drunken karaoke for Charlie’s birthday and, well…

Cas came out from behind the counter and joined Dean in the next chorus, even though the words to the song and the pulsing, bright rhythm were making his heartbeat quicken. 

_ He got that boyish look that I like in a man _

_ I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans _

_ He's so obsessed with me and, boy, I understand _

_ Boy, I understand _

_ He got my heartbeat  _

_ Skipping down 16th Avenue _

_ Got that, oh, I mean  _

_ Wanna see what's under that attitude like _

_ I want you, bless my soul _

_ And I ain't gotta tell him, I think he knows _

_ I think he knows _

“I didn’t know you liked Taylor Swift,” Cas called over the bridge.

_ I want you, bless my _

_ I want you, bless my soul _

_ I want you, bless my _

_ I want you, bless my soul _

“I don’t,” Dean called back, “It’s just catchy!”

“Mmm-hmm, sure.” Cas stopped dancing along (Jo had told him once that he danced like “an octopus on acid,” but Dean and Charlie had said he looked like he was having fun and that was what counted) to put his hands on his hips and raise an eyebrow, the impromptu dance party emboldening him. 

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Dean said, pausing as well, slightly out of breath. The next words to the song drifted over them as they stared at each other.

_ Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh _

_ We can follow the sparks, I'll drive _

_ Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh _

_ We can follow the sparks, I'll drive _

_ "So where we gonna go?" _

_ I whisper in the dark _

_ "Where we gonna go?" _

_ I think he knows _

Dean visibly swallowed and then started, “Hey Cas, I--” but was cut off by the chorus arriving again.

_ He got my heartbeat _

_ Skipping down 16th Avenue  _

_ Got that, oh, I mean  _

_ Wanna see what's under that attitude like _

_ I want you, bless my soul _

_ And I ain't gotta tell him, I think he knows _

_ I think he knows _

When the song ended and switched to a slower tune,  _ Don’t You Love Me  _ by Chapel, Cas couldn’t tear his gaze away from Dean, whose brilliant green eyes were wide and cheeks were pink. Cas remembered, only a few days ago, being inches from those cheeks, close enough to see Dean’s eyelashes and count his freckles.

“What were you gonna say?” Cas asked. 

“I, uh...nothing,” Dean said, looking down, “Nothing.” 

Cas furrowed his brow, let his hands fall to his side. “Okay.”

Dean looked up at him again, and while he still looked oddly flustered, there was now a smile playing on his lips. “This was a lot of fun, Cas.”

“So you like the playlist?”

“Never said that,” Dean replied, his grin still intact, before taking the cardboard box the lollipops had been in out to the recycling. 

Cas was left alone with his thoughts and the dulcet tones of Chapel’s lead singer crooning. 

_ I think I’m in love with you _

_ It’s true _

_ I can’t get enough of you _

_ Don’t you love me too?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to Cas' Top 14 Valentine's Traxx, you can [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0PVmzzvxWDq5AjG4LgPAJL)! as you can see, this is a riff on the mixtape (there are 14 instead of 13 bc valentine's is on the 14th) and in case you're wondering if there's an accompanying dean playlist....you'll have to wait and see! 
> 
> I had this scene of dean and cas dancing my head as soon as I started writing this story--I hope it came across the way I wanted it to! 
> 
> poor ole flustered dean :)


	11. February 11: Dean

Dean had almost told Cas the truth, right then and there, hadn’t he? Right in the middle of the store, after singing along to that Taylor Swift song together? 

It would have been so easy to just let the words slip out of his mouth, even if he didn’t know exactly how they would sound coming out, even if he didn’t know how Cas would react. 

Dean steeled his nerves as he got out of the Impala and locked it. He could push aside the current Cas-related freakout to another time, because at the present moment, he was a man on a mission.  Dean had told Charlie he was going to the formal dance (and then promptly sworn her to secrecy), which led to her informing him that he had "nothing" to wear.

So now he was at the local thrift store, hoping to find what Charlie called a “stylish” suit jacket for cheap.

The thing was, Dean could clean up pretty nice, if he did say so himself, but he tended not to make a habit of it. He was happy in his jeans, boots, old and stretched-out band tees, flannels, and perpetual leather jacket. There was nothing like the softness of a worn-in plaid flannel on a cold day. He owned one suit jacket that he had gotten for prom in his junior year of high school and had never thought to upgrade.

The thrift store was pretty quiet when Dean walked in, some random oldies station playing over the tinny speakers. He made a beeline for the section labeled  _ Men’s Formalwear  _ and then searched until he found the suit jackets.

Charlie had recommended he get something “fun” and not just black, so Dean gathered up an armful of likely candidates and made a beeline for the dressing room, where he stripped off his upper layers until he was just wearing a faded Black Flag tee. 

The first jacket was too tight, the second one comically large, and the third one incredibly flashy. Dean frowned at them and turned to his last selection, which was a deep navy blue. What set it apart was the fact that it had shiny lapels--satiny and nearly glimmering in the fluorescent light. It was different enough to be acceptable by Charlie, but also more Dean’s speed that his other choices.

He got lucky--the jacket fit, and it didn’t look too bad. Dean picked up his phone and snapped a picture to send Charlie, and then on a whim decided to send it to Cas, too. 

Dean’s confidence over that decision evaporated quickly, though. He bought the jacket (a whole seven dollars of his hard-earned Harvelle’s Costumes and Party Supplies cash) and headed back to the Impala, where he sat with his head leaning on the steering wheel, trying to stop freaking out. He had simply traded one Cas-related semi-meltdown for another, apparently. 

Dean was jerked out of his freak-out by the sound of his phone dinging. He glanced down at his phone. It was a text from his younger brother, Sam. 

_ what kind of condoms do you use? _

“Oh my god,” Dean intoned, immediately calling Sam instead of texting back, pushing aside thoughts of Cas to perform big-brotherly duties. Sam answered on the second ring. “Dude,” Dean said, “You’re like, twelve. You can’t buy condoms.”

“I’m almost seventeen, Dean!” 

_ And taller than me, somehow,  _ Dean thought, but he kept going. “Okay, well, you’re  _ not  _ seventeen yet, and you’re  _ definitely  _ not an adult, and I dunno what the age of consent is, but I don’t think you’re it. And I’m not giving my little brother sex advice.” Dean paused, considering. “What does Jess think?”

Jess was Sam’s girlfriend--they had been dating for about a year, and while they were both awkward, pimply high schoolers, she was nice enough.

(And actually not that pimply. Sam was, though.) 

“She’s okay with it. We  _ talked,  _ Dean. And how come I can’t do anything, you did stuff all the time when--”

“Shut it.” 

“But why can’t I--”

“Look, I should be the last person to give you the  _ do as I say, not as I do  _ talk . If you’re ready and you’ve got consent and you’re safe about it, I won’t tell you no. But what I will tell you is that if Mom finds out, she won’t be mad, but she’ll definitely give you one of those _talks_ to make sure you're being _responsible_ , and if she does then that’s your own damn fault.”

“Fine.”

“And another thing,” Dean said, frowning at his punk little brother’s tone, “Make sure that if you get it on, that you actually want to and it’s not just Valentine’s Day pressure, alright?”

“You got it, Dean. But seriously, what kind of condoms do you--”

“ _ Google it,  _ Sam. Don’t ask me. Like I said, I’m not giving my little brother sex advice except to not be an idiot about it.”

“Speaking of Valentine’s Day,” Sam said after a pause, clearly smirking, “How are things with Cas?”

Dean scowled. “Just for that, I’m shaving your head the next time I see you.”

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself. Look, I gotta go.”

“Alright. Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Dean said before hanging up. His family didn’t used to be an  _ I love you  _ family, but after their parents had gotten divorced, Dean had gotten really into telling his mom he loved her all the time because it made her smile, and then he started telling Sam, too, and that was that.

Dean hoped that Sam was responsible. He trusted his brother, but he was also the older sibling in this situation, so he had an unspoken duty to make sure that Sam didn’t fuck shit up. Sam was a good kid, though.

Dean glanced down at his phone and discovered that, while he had been talking to Sam, he had gotten two text messages. One was from Charlie and read, _looking good! “suits” you well_ _:P_

Dean rolled his eyes and shot back,  _ thanks lol  _ and then read the other message, which was from Cas, and was actually a series of messages, because Cas serial texted like nobody’s business. 

_ that’s nice! _

_ i mean, you look great :) _

_ what’s the special occasion?  _

Dean considered for a moment, before replying,  _ it’s a surprise :)  _

He just hoped it was a surprise Cas liked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to get in some dean-and-sam moments in this fic...so of course we had to go with the classic brotherly advice. I dithered over that scene a lot, because I wanted it to be appropriate but also chill. hope it came out right!
> 
> so dean's got a jacket, and Charlie's in the know, but cas still has no idea........or does he? you'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out!


	12. February 12: Cas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel 2% sorry for this chapter.

_ Valentine’s Formal Checklist _

_ x  _ _ Hire DJ (Benjamin) _

_ x  _ _ Buy drinks (Raphael) _

_ x  _ _ Buy snacks (Raphael) _

_ x  _ _ Social media promotion (Amelia) _

_ __ Check no-go list (Castiel) _

_ __ Decorate (Castiel, Amelia, and Hannah) _

There were only two days until the Valentine’s formal, and while most of the big tasks had been completed, Cas was still full of nervous energy. He had yet to convince Dean to come, although he did wonder what Dean’s new suit jacket was all about. Dean had looked a treat in it, and that was just with a t-shirt and jeans. Cas had seen Dean in a suit before, of course, but it was still a nice thing to think about. 

Luckily, Cas had a task to distract himself in the meantime that would also help him feel productive: comparing ticket sales to the university’s no-go list, which was a list of students who were currently banned from campus-related events due to various infractions. It was tedious, but Cas knew that the repercussions for  _ not  _ following all the university policies were major, even if they  _ were  _ the student activities association. 

(He also thought it was pretty interesting to see what sorts of infractions people had committed when it came to getting on the no-go list. They ranged from streaking across campus to  _ putting a badger in the dean’s office _ , which was actually a commendable feat in Cas’ opinion.)

Cas put on some music (his Valentine’s playlist, of course) and went down the list of ticket-holders alphabetically, making note of which students needed to be emailed and told they couldn’t come. They would be reimbursed, of course, but they were also usually pretty pissed, and Cas always found that upsetting. The sounds of Saint Motel’s  _ Sweet Talk  _ reverberated through his room as he methodically sorted through names.

Cas had just gotten down to the bottom of the ticket-holder list when he saw a name that piqued his interest. 

_ Dean Winchester. _

Oh. 

So Dean  _ was  _ going to the dance. 

So  _ that  _ was what the suit jacket Dean had sent him a picture of was for. 

Dean, who always categorically refused to go to any Valentine’s function, was going to the Valentine’s formal.

Clearly, though, he had a date, because why else would Dean go to the dance? Cas recalled Dean being cajoled into a variety of activities by his high school girlfriend, Lisa, that he didn’t exactly want to do. Dean was the kind of guy who went above and beyond for people he cared about. 

Cas sighed and bitterly wondered who Dean’s special Valentine’s date was. He was Dean’s good friend, so he was going to have to pretend to be happy for him, supply him with date ideas, all the while facing the usual feeling of disappointment that was wrapped up in the realization that he was never going to be good enough for Dean.

Cas hadn’t had to deal with this feeling in a while, because for some odd reason Dean had pretty much eschewed dating in college, but it figured that Dean, as attractive and magnetic as he was, would find somebody. 

Against his better judgement, Cas pulled out his phone and shot Dean a text.  _ are you coming to the dance?  _

Anxiety swirled in his stomach as he awaited Dean’s response, which came a few minutes later.  _ nah, it’s not for me. i’m sure it’ll be great, though _

Dean was lying, and Cas  _ knew  _ it. He had the proof right in front of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to call Dean on it. Cas cared about their friendship too much to accuse Dean of being untruthful...even when he was.

Cas went through the list and then decided to call it a day and throw the towel in. He had homework to finish still, but he could deal with it tomorrow, when he was more up to it, when it didn’t feel like his heart had been shoved into a trash compactor. Cas flopped down on his bed and sighed. He was going to have to see Dean at the dance, wasn’t he? 

For the first time in his life, Cas was dreading Valentine’s Day. He leaned over and switched off the music, but not before  _ Sweet Talk  _ delivered the kill shot:

_ You're probably not aware _

_ That I'm even here _

_ Well you might not know I exist _

_ But I don't even care _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, someone bonk cas on the head!!!! he is being a dummy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> "for some reason dean had eschewed dating" maybe it's because HE'S IN LOVE WITH YOU
> 
> okay, enough shouting at cas. he doesn't know what we know. I know, I feel bad for him right now, too, but worry not, folks! dean to the rescue! in two days.


	13. February 13: Dean

Dean knew that Cas was just asking about the dance because he’d been determined to get Dean to go to it--right? 

If he was going to all the trouble of getting a jacket and tickets and actually showing up to a godforsaken Valentine’s event, then Dean didn’t want his surprise to fall flat because Cas had figured it out. 

Dean had thought about bringing it up and testing the waters at work, but things had been weird today for some reason. Cas would barely talk to him--usually, they spent their entire shift discussing...anything. And everything. But not today. 

It left Dean with a weird feeling--was Cas really that upset that he supposedly wasn’t coming to the formal? 

The feeling lingered for the rest of the afternoon, as Dean worked on homework and tried to distract himself by deep-cleaning his kitchen. Nothing was working, though. He kept feeling like he had failed somehow, like he had done something wrong and Cas hated him. 

Was there anything he could do to fix it? 

Dean thought back to the limited number of rom-coms he had seen (all of which were from the eighties and nineties, because Dean’s mom was the one who had shown them to him) and what qualified as a romantic gesture. 

The mental image of him pulling a Lloyd Dobler from _Say Anything_ popped into his head and Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of standing outside of Cas’ window with a boombox. What song would he blast? 

Wait, that was it.

_Music._

Cas had shared his Valentine’s playlist with him, and then they’d had that _moment_ in the shop, listening to Taylor Swift. Dean needed to share _his_ music with Cas.

He needed to make Cas a mixtape. 

Dean remembered, when his parents had still been married and he’d still thought of his dad as a hero, learning how tapes worked, how to put one in the Impala’s deck, how to wind them back with a pencil, and how to make a mixtape. It was one of the few useful things John Winchester had decided to share with Dean, and Dean had shown Sam, and now…

Was it a ridiculously sappy thing to do?

Yeah.

But did Cas deserve it?

Absolutely.

Dean knew he was putting his heart out there even more than just going to the formal by taking the time to make a mixtape, but if Cas was upset with him, he was gonna fix it any way he could.

Selecting the songs was actually the hardest part--Dean pored over his music library on his laptop, trying to create a nice balance between his beloved classic rock and the kind of music Cas liked. Eventually, though, he had a track listing picked out, and it was time to get recording. 

Dean sat on the floor of his apartment’s living room for over an hour, carefully starting and stopping the recorder in time with the songs, trying not to accidentally record over anything that was important. When the tape was finished, he took out the sleeve and wrote on it, as neatly as he could muster, _Dean’s Top 14 Valentine’s Traxx,_ to mirror Cas’ playlist. 

Dean was tired and his muscles were stiff from sitting and his heart was heavy from worrying about Cas, but there was also a profound sense of accomplishment brimming. He had done something. Back when they’d had their impromptu dance party he had _almost_ told Cas how he felt, but now he was _actually_ going to do it. He was going to give the mixtape to Cas at the dance.

All that was left was to see if Cas felt the same. 

\------------------------

_Dean’s Top 14 Valentine’s Traxx--Track Listing_

  * _I’ll Supply the Love (Toto, 1979)_


  * _Your Love (The Outfield, 1985)_


  * _Jet Airliner (Steve Miller Band, 1977)_


  * _Whole Lotta Love (Led Zeppelin, 1969)_


  * _Ain’t Nobody But Me (Supertramp, 1975)_


  * _I Want to Know What Love Is (Foreigner, 1984)_


  * _Faithfully (Journey, 1983)_


  * _Someday (Glass Tiger, 1986)_


  * _Can’t Fight This Feeling (REO Speedwagon, 1984)_


  * _You Might Think (The Cars, 1984)_


  * _Making Love Out of Nothing At All (Air Supply, 1983)_


  * _You’re the Inspiration (Chicago, 1984)_


  * _Wonderful Tonight (Eric Clapton, 1977)_


  * _More Than a Feeling (Boston, 1976)_



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple things: one, so sorry this chapter was up later than usual! I've been feeling pretty bleh mental health wise recently, so I decided not to set an alarm since it was Saturday and accidentally slept until 11am my time. 
> 
> two! a kind soul named sam drew some fan art for this fic ;-; everyone go shower them in love and affection, because it's gorgeous! you can take a gander at it [here ](https://earthboundangel.tumblr.com/post/642976787045007360/needed-to-do-a-ten-minute-sketch-of-this-idea-from)! 
> 
> three! if you want to listen to dean's playlist, you can [here ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/12vTxn3yd6oasHfgibAH6m)! I spent a lot more time making his because he has a pretty clearly defined canon music taste and I didn't want people to get angsty--although y'all are all great <3
> 
> and four! tomorrow is Valentine's Day, which means the chapter is going to be THICK. the boys are FINALLY gonna use their words, and there will be disco balls and longing gazes galore.


	14. February 14: Cas

Decorating for the formal started at five pm sharp, even though it wasn’t until eight, so by the time the dance actually started, Cas was sweating in his suit from all the work. But it was worth it: the disco balls were hung, the pink and red streamers dangling, the tables covered in pink plastic tablecloths and confetti. It had been Hannah’s idea to create a “photobooth” area with a backdrop and some Valentine’s-themed props, so that was tucked away in a corner, and there were fake flower centerpieces on all the tables. 

In short, the formal looked great, but Cas just wasn’t feeling it.

He’d spent far too long getting ready and second-guessing his outfit, skinny slacks and a dark, burgundy blazer that Charlie had helped him pick out and he had felt good about at the time. Now, though, Cas’ collar was too tight, the matching tie constricting, and he was standing awkwardly by the table with the punch, waving at people who said hi to him or thanked him for helping put this on. 

Eventually, he decided to  _ actually  _ pour himself some punch, and he had just picked up a pink paper cup when a familiar face caught his eye.

Dean.

He was standing across the room, looking lost and illegal levels of handsome in that navy suit jacket. He clearly hadn’t spotted Cas yet, and for a brief moment, Cas was glad for the dim lighting.

He did wonder where Dean’s date was, the person who was worth lying to Cas for, since Dean was standing alone. Cas went back to pouring his punch, trying to keep himself from doing something mortifying like crying over a  _ guy. _

“Hey,” a voice said, “You okay?”

Cas’ eyes snapped up to meet Dean’s, and then down to watch himself pouring punch into an overflowing pink plastic cup.

“Shit,” Cas said, “Sorry.” He grabbed some paper napkins from the table and tried to sop up the mess on the floor. To his surprise, Dean crouched down and did the same. 

“It’s no problem,” Dean said, taking the sodden napkins from Cas and tossing them into the trash can. 

“I, uh, thought you weren’t coming,” Cas said, clearing his throat and taking a sip of his punch. He kept trying to keep himself from checking Dean out, but the suit and new jacket were working  _ wonders _ . 

“I may have...fudged the truth?” Dean smiled awkwardly, and Cas swallowed again. He knew Dean had done that. Vividly.

“So, who’s the lucky date?” Cas asked, pushing aside his own feelings and frustrations. 

“No one. I came alone.” Dean cleared his throat. “Cas, I need to--” 

“Castiel!” Dean was interrupted by one of the members of the formal planning committee, Audrey, coming up to them. She sounded panicked.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, setting his punch down. 

“One of the disco balls fell and broke, we were wondering if you knew where a broom--”

“I can take care of it,” Cas said, already turning towards the supply closet on the other side of the room. Dean followed him, although Cas couldn’t figure out why sweeping up disco ball pieces was more fun than whatever (or  _ whoever _ ) Dean had really come here for. 

The disco ball was luckily one of the ones in the table area, where less people were hanging out, so Cas had easy access. There were some bigger pieces that he thought he could just pick up and throw into the trash can, and Cas bent down to pick them up.

“Cas, I wouldn’t do that,” Dean said. “Aren’t they sharp?”

“It’ll be fine,” Cas said, “Besides, don’t you-- _ fuck _ .”

“Are you okay?” There was a trace of worry in Dean’s voice.

“I, uh--” Cas looked down at his left palm, which was now starting to sluggishly ooze blood. “I don’t think so.” He held up his hand for Dean to see.

“I’m not gonna say  _ I told you so, _ ” Dean said, “But I  _ am  _ going to take you to the urgent care. That looks like it needs stitches.”

“All I need is a band-aid--”

“For your whole palm? Cas, don’t be stubborn.”

Cas scowled at Dean, but he stood up, cradling his hand, and let Dean lead him out of the venue. 

God, this night was going to turn out worse than he initially thought, wasn’t it?

\----------------------

After a round of stitches (six of them), Dean opened the Impala’s door for Cas, and Cas slid onto the bench seat, barely registering the door slamming shut and then Dean sliding into the driver’s side. Cas stared at his hand, wrapped in the bandage, and could feel his heart slamming in his chest.

There was no way Dean was going to like Valentine’s Day--or  _ him _ \--after this. 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean said. Cas felt a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Cas nodded once.

“You sure?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas finally said. “I ruined tonight.”

“No way! The dance was fun, and it was nice to hang out with you.”

Cas turned to look at Dean. “Even at the urgent care?”

Dean stared at Cas for a moment that felt like an eternity, but Cas couldn’t discern what Dean was thinking from the swirl of emotions evident on his face. Before Cas realized what was happening, Dean was seizing him by the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him close, and  _ kissing him.  _

It took Cas’ brain a couple of seconds to reboot, and by the time he’d regained function, Dean had pulled away and was still staring at him, eyes wild. 

“Yes,” Dean said, “Even at the urgent care.” He turned away, leaning back heavily against the seat, bringing his hands up to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. “I--sorry if that was too forward. I just--” He shut his eyes, brought up a hand to run it through his hair. “This is going to sound ridiculous, Cas, but you gotta believe me. I’m kinda-sorta in love with you.”

Okay,  _ what _ ?

“I mean,” Dean flopped his head sideways to look at Cas again. “I’m definitely in love with you. Sorry.”

“Why--” Cas didn’t think his mouth was working. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because...you don’t like me like that?” Dean asked. “Right?”

Cas shook his head. 

“Wrong?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

Cas nodded.

They stared at each other. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Dean asked. “With warning this time?” 

Cas nodded again.

This time, as promised, it was less sudden--Dean scooted forward, brought one hand up to Cas’ cheek and the other to his neck, and gently guided their lips together. His mouth was soft and warm against Cas’, and Cas brought his uninjured hand up to grip Dean’s shirt. 

When Dean pulled back, he gently rested his forehead against Cas’, their lips still almost brushing, and Cas could feel him smile. He knew that he himself was smiling. 

“For the record,” Cas said softly, “I love you, too.”   


“How long?” Dean asked.

“Long enough. But I had a crush on you from day one.”

Now Dean leaned back enough to look at Cas. “Wait, from your first day at our high school? Freshman year?”

“Someone pointed you out! You were cute!”

“I was  _ fourteen.  _ I looked like a thumb!”

Cas shrugged. “Not from my point of view.”

“ _ Amazing _ . I realized I liked you senior year, but I definitely liked you before then.” Dean’s eyes searched Cas’ face. “Wait. So were you my…”

“Secret admirer with the box of chocolates?” Cas nodded with a smile. “Part of my plan to make you like Valentine’s Day.”

“The jury’s still out on whether I like Valentine’s Day.” Dean stuck the key into the Impala’s ignition and started the engine. “But what do you say we blow this popsicle stand?”

Cas looked out the windshield at the urgent care. “Definitely.”

\----------------------

“I still don’t understand rom-coms,” Dean said, yawning as the end credits of  _ While You Were Sleeping  _ rolled. “Sandra Bullock’s character was in love with a guy she’d literally never met? And then when everyone thought she was his fiance, she fell in love with his brother?”

Cas sighed and craned his head to look up at Dean. “Rom-coms aren’t meant to be high cinema, Dean.” 

After leaving the hospital, they had decided to go to Cas’ apartment (although Dean’s  _ was  _ right down the hall) and Cas had coerced Dean into watching a movie with him.

(It wasn’t hard. Watching a movie meant curling up together on the couch, and Dean kept trying to use the close proximity as an excuse to make out, which didn’t bother Cas.) 

The movie eventually clicked off and Cas’ television went back to the Netflix main screen. Dean wasn’t looking at him--he was staring at a random spot on Cas’ wall.

“Are you alright?” Cas asked, poking him gently. 

“I--yeah,” Dean said, suddenly awkward. “Look, there’s something I wanted to give you. I was going to do it at the dance, but then we ended up leaving, and--”

“Yeah,” Cas said. 

“It’s kind of silly, but…” Dean pulled something small and rectangular out of his pocket. “You seemed upset with me yesterday, and I thought this might help...since you shared your music with me, I thought I would--I made you a mixtape.” He offered it to Cas, who took it and turned the tape over in his hands.

_ Dean’s Top 14 Valentine’s Traxx.  _

“Thank you,” Cas said in wonderment, before turning his gaze back to Dean. “But I was upset for a really stupid reason…I saw your name on the ticket list when I was checking for no-gos, and you had said you weren’t going to the dance so I thought you’d found someone else.”

“Oh my god,” Dean replied. “Is that why you texted me to see if I was going?”

Cas nodded.

“Jesus christ. That’s the last time I take advice from Benny Lafitte. He told me I shouldn’t tell you I was coming to make a surprise…but of  _ course  _ you would see the list…” Dean smacked his forehead with his palm. “We really are a couple of dumbasses, huh?”

“We got there eventually,” Cas said. “That reminds me, maybe we should text Charlie...she masterminded the whole bed-sharing thing during movie night.”

“So  _ that’s  _ what you two were talking about in her kitchen?” Dean started laughing. “I got you those chocolate bars because I thought you were  _ upset _ .”

Suddenly something dawned on Cas. “She told me she had it on ‘good authority’ that you liked me...you were her secret source, weren’t you?”

“I told her not to tell anyone…” Dean sighed. “But just this once I think I’ll let it slide.”

“It was worth it?” Cas said.

“Absolutely.” Dean leaned in to kiss him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Cas.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they finally got it!!!! I hope y'all enjoyed the last chapter--thank you for all the love and support along the way, it means a lot <3 and happy Valentine's Day! 
> 
> I'm not exactly a bang-up artist, but I did [doodle the boys in their formal outfits :)](https://offbeatsartventures.tumblr.com/post/643103793767120896/happy-valentines-day-everyone-to-celebrate-i)
> 
> and if you want more stuff from me, you can find me on my [tumblr!](https://one-more-offbeat-anthem.tumblr.com)


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